


Won't You Clarify, Clarify Us

by tinybabydeer



Series: I Breathe Easily In Your Arms [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: D/s elements, Kink Discovery, Liam Payne's approximation of winks, Masturbation, intermediate "oops I want it" scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2174109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybabydeer/pseuds/tinybabydeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(He did not think about big hands around his wrists, he did not think about a broad, heavy chest pressing against his back, and he most of all did not think about Liam goddamn Payne. This was his fault. He wasn't going to fall for it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Clarify, Clarify Us

**Author's Note:**

> Part two! In which Louis builds a summer home the beautiful state of Denial and rides the roller coaster of "Oops I actually do want Liam Payne to beat me senseless with his dick" feelings!
> 
> The first part was revised a bit as well as I am still figuring out how to write and what I want the tone to be. 
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd and unbritpicked and probably underedited. Bear with me. I'm new.
> 
> Title is from Papi Pacify by FKA Twigs

...........

They didn't discuss it.

They were going to, honestly, but before they knew it, it was time to go, needed to pack, they were flying out in the morning. The insane bustle of tour life caught up to them lightning fast and before they knew it, it had been a week and a half since the... thing.

Which was well and good with Louis, honestly. The sex thing wasn't so weird, they'd all turned to each other in times of desperation at one point or another and had long since learned to not worry about it. You get five boys who love each other like they did in the same space for eighty percent of the year and something was going to end up happening.

It was totally fine that he and Liam hadn't debriefed on the whole silly dom thing, that was a one-time event, just an anomaly in a whirlwind of sexual confusion and stress and it was nothing to waste any more time thinking about.

It was totally fine, except that Louis was broken now. In the nine days (who's counting?) since, he had been completely unable to get off.

Louis fancied himself a man of strong character, above being controlled by his sexual urges (or lack thereof) but he was beginning to lose his mind. Whenever he got some alone time, he naturally would try to have a wank to blow off some steam but every time he tried, he couldn't get there. His dick would only get half-hard, the mutinous bastard, and no matter what porn he watched or what elaborate fantasy he tried to weave, nothing was piquing his interest.

(He did not think about big hands around his wrists, he did not think about a broad, heavy chest pressing against his back, and he most of all did not think about Liam goddamn Payne. This was his fault. He wasn't going to fall for it.)

It was taking a toll, however. He spent his days feeling ramped up, practically vibrating with anxious energy and desperate to make everyone else around him as miserable as he felt. Lou and Paul had learned early on to duck out of the room as soon as they saw him coming around, leaving the rest of the boys and a few unfortunate sound guys to deal with his warpaths.

The current victim was Harry, sprawled out on the green room couch, trying in vain to read a book. Louis was hovering behind him by the arm, just above his head and going on about how it was okay for Harry to stop pretending he could read, no one was going to judge him, and even if he could shouldn’t he be starting with picture books or the alphabet rather than the too-hip beatnik self-discovery bollocks he insisted on. Harry was trying to be in good humour about it, but his patience was wearing thin.

The eighth time Louis had successfully wet-willied Harry, he'd earned a painful, well-deserved slap just below the cheek of his ass from a lucky, blindly-swung arm. Louis flinched and froze, partly from surprise that he'd actually managed to piss off his usually unflappable bandmate, and partly because he was suddenly completely overwhelmed in the sense memory of Liam's hand striking across his ass. The spanking. His _punishment_. Oh god.

Harry was scowling at him, oh, right, and talking, brow furrowed in rare irritation. "Are you quite finished? You've been a right terror lately, fuck’s the matter with you?" Louis blinked, coming back to himself and desperately hoping the fact that he was very suddenly fighting half a hard-on wasn't obvious. 

"What, like I need a reason to spend time with my very favorite Harold?" Louis said, recovering quickly and ducking in to poke at his sides. Harry slapped his hand away easily and returned to his book, frown on his face. 

"Go bother Liam, maybe he'll do us all a favor and throw you in the bloody hotel pool."

Louis withdrew hesitantly, ignoring the prickling flush he could feel crawling up his neck, and suddenly turned on his heel with a huff and stormed toward the door. "You're no fun anyway! Have fun wanking to Bukowski, you pretentious tit!"

The bright bark of laughter he earned as he turned the corner was hardly welcome. This was all backfiring. Nobody was putting up with him long enough to distract him from his own thoughts. 

He was barreling around a corner, scrubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to hide the blush that wouldn't seem to bloody dissipate, when he naturally ran, quite literally, smack into the absolute last person he needed to see right now.

"Louis?" Liam said, looking bewildered and holding out his hands to steady Louis' reeling form. Walking into Liam was like walking into a brick wall. "Are you okay mate?"

The universe hated him. This was payback for all the mischief he caused. There was no other way to explain it. His eyes turned briefly up towards the ceiling, promising to the heavens that he was going to join a convent if it meant his luck would turn around. He’d become a nun. Pope, even. Liam was staring at him with concern when he finally brought his gaze back to eye level, and Louis sighed explosively.

"What, Liam," he snapped, a bit harsher than he meant to, feeling overwhelmed and ruffled, "Finally decided to talk to me?" 

Liam, if possible, looked even more confused. "'Finally decided-', Louis, what on earth are you on about? I've been trying to talk to you for a week!"

Louis blinked, staring up at Liam blankly. "What?" He managed eloquently. Liam rolled his eyes and gestured between them. "Louis, I've tried to talk to you no less than four times since... last week and every time you run away and make excuses about having something to do."

That didn't sound like Louis at all. Though, now that he mentioned it, it kind of was starting to sound familiar. Oh. Right.

"Did not," Louis protested weakly. 

"You did." Liam said firmly, holding eye contact with his stupid sincere eyes and his stupid earnest face and his stupid whole self. "Louis, can we please talk about this? You've been acting out and driving everyone mad."

"Have not," Louis argued automatically, but Liam put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in either scolding or encouragement and Louis could feel himself go weak in the bloody knees. Goddammit.

"Louis." Liam repeated, gaze holding firm to Louis' despite his sudden desire to close his eyes and sink into Liam's touch. "We have to talk about this."

Snapping out of his daze, Louis slapped Liam's hand away from his shoulder and ignored the tiny flicker in Liam's eyes at his defiance, as well as the hot twist in his belly in reaction to it. "There is nothing to talk about, Liam, I'm fine, you're fine, let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"So what's wrong then, why are you acting like such a prat?" Liam insisted, not coming any closer but suddenly Louis felt like he was half a head taller. Louis couldn't breathe, hands shaking involuntarily, mind screaming at him to just leave and go throw himself in the bloody pool after all. 

"I can't-" he started, voice cracking and too loud in the hall. He glanced, slightly panicked as a wary sound tech wandered by, giving them both a look. Staring at him venomously until he retreated, Louis whipped back to Liam and continued in a hiss.

"I cant. Get. Off." He bit out, pretending the scarlet flush he could feel painting his cheeks wasn't happening. Liam blinked at him, pausing a long moment before finally responding.

"What?"

If there was a way to roll your eyes with your entire body, Louis managed to do it. "Jesus Christ, Liam, I can't wank! Jerk off! Masturbate! Climax, come to completion-" Louis' voice had begun to rise and Liam was frantically trying to shush him. "Ever since last week, I haven't been able to! I'm broken, alright?! Nothing seems to work and I just keep thinking about-"

The hallway fell silent. Liam's eyes flicked back to Louis', which were as wide as dinner plates, his face suddenly pale. "Thinking about... what, Louis?" Liam said quietly and gently, like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Louis just shook his head, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"No, nothing, forget it, it's nothing." Louis said, but his voice was cracking. Liam straightened then, slowly and with an assured, quiet confidence that seemed to radiate out of his body. Louis was struck with the sudden, completely mental idea of curling up against Liam's frame like a cat in a sunbeam.

"Louis." Liam said firmly, his dark eyes boring into Louis' as he brought his hands up to gently hold his face. "It's okay. There isn't anything wrong with you. You're good."

A tiny noise, one that was not flattering in the least, escaped Louis' throat as he stayed motionless in Liam's hands. His breaths were coming in short pants, and he couldn't seem to string together a single coherent thought. This felt startlingly familiar, this was comfort after a week of frantic anxiety. 

His eyes were just beginning to sink closed when Liam continued. "We're going to talk about this properly, no more freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out." Louis muttered, eyes still half shut.

"I know. We're going to work it out, Louis." There was an undercurrent of... something in Liam's voice that made Louis open his eyes, immediately regretting it when he saw the heat in Liam's gaze. "There's not enough time, only an hour before the show or else I'd take care of you now."

"Not enough time...?" Louis parroted weakly, eyes widening slightly as he realized the implications of Liam's words. _Oh god_.

Liam smiled then, eyes crinkling in the corners like they always did, and gave his cheek a gentle pat. "Later, Louis. See you in a bit, alright?" Giving his forehead a quick peck, he was gone, jogging down the hall and out of sight.

Louis stared into space, trying to make sense of the riot of thoughts in his head when suddenly he was very acutely aware of how uncomfortable his trousers were. Palming his raging erection through his jeans and cursing, he wobbled down the hall to the loo. "Of course you show up now, you traitorous bastard." He muttered, feeling very lost and very, very turned on.

……

Liam Payne was a witch.

Or a warlock, or an evil genie or something. It was the only possible explanation as to why Louis was on stage with his knees still weak and nearly buckling from having the most mind-blowing wank of recent memory hunched over in the handicapped toilets only half an hour before.

It was probably only because it had been building up for a week and a half, it wasn’t because of Liam’s dark-eyed promise to him in the hallway. It had nothing to do with that. Nor did the half a stiffy he couldn’t seem to shake now (Louis’d never been more grateful for the extra-long vests he’d chosen to sport this tour). But, while he was thinking about it, Liam was giving him an awful lot of very heated stares across the stage, which also might not have been helping. He very determinedly stayed as far as possible from him, instead hanging off of Zayn and pestering Niall whenever he got the chance. Liam James Payne could keep his witchcraft to himself, thank you kindly. He wasn’t going to fall for it.

The show was going well. If he was being honest (which, like, when did he ever?), it actually was going very, very well. That didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he no longer wanted to crawl out of his skin, which didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’d had a wank, which had absolutely nothing to do with whatever Liam said to him. Completely unrelated and coincidental, actually. Blind luck. Total chance.

It was the fact that the crowd was being enthusiastic and responsive, the whole band seemed to be on just the right wavelength… the feeling was infectious. It was going so well that Louis forgot momentarily about avoiding Liam and snuck up behind him in the heat of one of the numbers, stealing the snapback off his head with a devilish grin.

Liam spun around, grin already on his face and a flinty sparkle catching his eye upon seeing who it was. Louis swallowed, but waved the hat at him tauntingly, not willing to back down, even now. This is what he knew, he pushed Liam and Liam caught him and bounced it right back. This made sense.

He was distracted by his thoughts when Liam lunged forward, grabbing Louis’ wrist and easily snatching the hat back with his other hand. Louis sharply inhaled, thrown, but Liam just laughed brightly, slipping the hat back on his head. Not letting go of Louis’ wrist, he tugged Louis toward him, nose bumping against his cheekbone as he murmured in his ear, “How far do you want to push it?”

With a firm squeeze around his wrist, Liam pulled back, smile back in place and gleeful as ever, and he spun to address the crowd. Louis stood, somewhat stunned and blinking under the hot stage lights.

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest and the deafening scream of the crowd was nothing next to the white noise in his head. How far _did_ he want to push it? Did he want this?

As the crowd roared with renewed vigor, his knees nearly buckled under the realization that he did.

Whatever "it" was.

 

…….

 

_New text from: Payno  
heyyyyy looouuiis get showerd n come by my room okkk? lets talkkk!!! :)))_

Louis stared unblinkingly at the message for the fifth time since he’d gotten back to his room. It wasn’t revealing anything to him yet, but maybe if he read it once or twice or eight times more it would become something that would make sense in his head.

After the show, they’d all piled off stage, whooping and riled up from adrenaline and wrestling each other in the hall. Louis was trying to steal Harry’s dumb headscarf to use as a sweatrag, much to Harry’s chagrin, when he felt a hot hand squeeze his side. Louis yelped, ticklish, and released Harry’s scarf, whipping around to retaliate. It, of course, was Liam, who just laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, like he was genuinely delighted to see Louis, the insufferable bastard. He did the Liam Payne approximation of a wink and then headed off to get ready to head back to the hotel without saying a word.

Which was infuriating. What the hell was that? Was that a come-on? Was he trying to pull Louis properly now? That was the worst pull he’d ever been privy to. Where did he get off, anyway? Louis immediately regretted his choice of words as he very vividly pictured… exactly that. From his own personal, first-hand account. Right. His room suddenly felt a little too warm. That witch-bastard Payne.

He’d gotten the text after they’d all split off to head to their respective rooms, and hadn’t stopped staring at it since. Yes, he had showered, nothing special or different about that, he was disgusting and sweaty from the show. It wasn’t because he’d asked. Or rather, told him to.

A hot shiver ran up Louis’ spine and he gusted out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to collect himself. He should just ignore it, say he’s going to stay in tonight. Or go out, get hammered, and forget that this ever happened. He felt like he couldn’t quite get a breath, heart pounding with… something. 

No, that was it.

It was terrifying how completely and totally he _didn’t_ want to avoid this. He wasn’t scared of what was going to happen, he was practically shaking with anticipation. He actually wanted to see how this was going to play out. Excited, even.

“Jesus Christ, Tommo, what the fuck happened to you?” He murmured to himself, rubbing his eyes.

A sharp knock at his door made him yelp, nearly jumping out of his skin. Okay, maybe he was a little too wound up. Hands shaking, he walked to the door and peered through the peephole, sighing with relief upon seeing Zayn gazing around nonchalantly, like some sort of grungey little Adonis.

He whipped the door open, ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless from his shower and only wearing joggers. Zayn hardly looked surprised, which was why Louis loved Zayn the most.

“You goin’ out with us, bro?” Zayn said easily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. How did he look so casual? Louis should take notes.

He cleared his throat, feigning what he hoped looked like exhaustion. “Ah, no thanks, I’m knackered, think I’ll call it an early night and catch up on my beauty rest, you know.” He added a luxurious stretch and yawn at the end for good measure, but when he peeked at Zayn, he didn’t look like he was buying it.

“Really.” Zayn said slowly, arching one of his stupid perfect eyebrows. He shrugged, looking aloof, but Louis sensed something else was up. “Why, what, what are you doing, what do you mean.” Louis asked,], eyes narrowing and sounding distinctly not as disinterested as he wanted to be.

Zayn shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at something down the hall. “Oh, me ‘n Haz ‘n Niall are just going to go out and find a pub, but Liam mentioned something about staying in as well. You feeling alright? Maybe you caught summat from him.” Zayn’s eyebrows quirked and his eyes flicked back to Louis shrewdly. Zayn was the worst, Zayn was his least favorite.

“No, Zayn, I’m feeling _fine_ , thank you for your _concern_.” Louis hissed through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at his bandmate and crossing his arms defiantly. Zayn pursed his lips like he was actually considering what Louis was saying and cocked his head.

“Nothing wrong with staying in, mate, just wanted to make sure you two were doing alright.” Zayn said slowly, now not quite meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis could feel the agitation seep from his shoulders, and dropped his arms to his sides, rolling his eyes dramatically. He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Zaaaaayn.”

“Bro.”

Louis sighed for what was probably the ten-thousandth time this night (he was starting to feel a little lightheaded from it).

“I don’t know what I’m doinggg.” He said, unable to keep the petulant whine from creeping in, sticking out his bottom lip and giving Zayn the best puppy eyes he could manage. Zayn looked back at him, brows drawing together sympathetically. “I can tell, mate.” Zayn said gently, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out though, eh?”

Louis grumbled, crossing his arms again and staring at the floor. The problem was his gut instinct was… a lot more straightforward than he wanted it to be, but he wasn’t about to detail this to Zayn.

“Just… be safe, alright? Don’t hurt yourself.” Zayn said soothingly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Louis must have looked a lot more stricken than he’d meant to, because Zayn hesitated, looking a little lost. “Er… or… do, I guess. Have a good night, Lou.” And with a laugh, he was gone.

Shit. Shit.

“Shit.” Louis gritted out, turning on his heel and grabbing the first shirt he could reach, pulling it violently over his head.

Shit.

………


End file.
